Black Rose, Red Thorn
by Black Confession
Summary: MurtaghXoc I cannot change who I am,' she said, her lips mere inches from his. 'Embrace me for who I am, not who I pretend to be. I've danced with death, have you? Care to dance again? Tell me....'
1. Prologue

Dudes, I don't own anything in here, except Vihrea, and whoever the dragon turns out to be. From this onward, remember!

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The cold stone floor. Sure, that's the closest thing to comfort. Where ever I am.

_The frail girl curled into a ball, pressing her pale cheek to the stones. She choked __back a sob unsuccessfully. She didn't know where she was; the room was sterile, with __only a simple cot she refused to even go near._

_"Up," Said a voice from the doorway._

_She obediently did so, allowing the str__anger to take her wrist in a vise-like grip. They travelled __door the deserted corridor, their footsteps echoing solemnly around them. A large wooden door __parted to let them through. A figure sat upon an eerily elegant throne, body hidden by shadows._

_"Whom is this?" The figure spoke to the stranger. "Where did she come from?"_

_"I do not know, M'lord. I found her wandering the corridors."_

_The figure leaned forward, the scarce light meeting his features. His cold gray eyes stared __expectantly at her. "Come closer, child."_

_She stepped forward, her violet eyes glazed with tears. Her bare feet met the stones silently, __shaking as if she were to fall. She bowed her head in what she hoped was a peaceful gesture._

_The man drew his sword and parted her ebony bangs with its tip. He gave a small gasp. __He moved the hair that rested on her shoulder to examine her neck. "Where," he began. __"Did you get that scar?" He gestured to the bite on her neck._

_She pushed the sword away haphazardly, ignoring the fact that "swords are sharp". __"It's none of your business." She hissed._

_"Oh, but it is. Trust me, girl, tell me. Tell me who you are. Or, I'll have to find it the hard way."_

_The girl growled. "I shan't. Do as you wish, you won't find that out."_

_The man scowled. "If you insist." He gave a sickly smile and the stranger grabbed her. __She writhed desperately, biting and clawing the force that bound her, only to have it grip __tighter. The man from the throne placed his fingers on her temples and she let out an __ear-piercing scream. She felt the race of rushing through her memories at break-neck __speed._

_They were muddled, but one thing stuck out: it would have been a wolf, but the ears __were bigger, the legs longer. "Wolf" was merely the term they'd adopted, but they were __much more. Children of the Moon Goddess, Bearers of the Change._

_The man withdrew, still smiling. He watched as crystal tears ran down her cheeks._

_"You are of great value, Vihrea Nightshade. Come join me."_


	2. Raven Hatchling

Vihrea walked down the stone halls of Galbatorix's kingdom. Her bare feet pressed soundlessly to the cold floor as she came to the large wooden door that led to the Throne Room, they very room where she had first encountered him. She shuddered.

But that, was nearly thirteen years ago. Now she was 18, a skilled swordswielder, and under the identity of Galbatorix's daughter. Really? No, not by blood. Never by blood.

Vihrea opened the door after her hesitation, and walked to stand before Galbatorix. She extended a foot and bowed before she spoke, "You sumoned me, Father?" Puh. Father.

"Yes," He extended a knarled hand to point at an ebony pedistool, upon it a raven-and-gold dragon egg.

Vihrea cocked her head so fast it cracked. She flinched, walked over to the egg, and laid a steady hand on it. Seconds passed. Cracks invisible to the untrained eye ran through it, and the shell burst only to have the remains fly across the room.

Galbatorix leaned forward expectantly and examined the hatchling. It was black over all, with golden-coloured spikes and amber eyes. A single golden streak ran from its nose to the first spike.

"So?" Galbatorix said.

"It," Vihrea paused. "Is female."

Galbatorix raised a brow. "Female?" he echoed. "But I thought..." and trailed off.

Vihrea stroked the hatchling calmly, eyeing Galbatorix with a raised brow.

"No matter. Murtagh," The red rider stepped from the shadowy corner, startling Vihrea. "You and Thorn will be training Vihrea and her dragon once they are ready. Now, you both are dismissed."

They exited swiftly, Vihrea clutching the dragon with its claws against her chest.

"So," Murtagh said, raising a brow. "You're the new Rider, huh?"

"Apparently so. And, you are? I wasn't paying much attention, sorry."

"Oh, not at all. I'm Murtagh."

"Vihrea. Pleasure." she said, readjusting the dragon as it squealed.

And they continued down the corridor in silence.

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Sorry it's so short! My first fanfic...


	3. Silver and Sparring

Vihrea ran a hand along her sword's sheath as she perched herself on her bed. Her room, it was filled with remnanents of her Pack, her family. Sure, she had their name, but was she the same? Did blood define anything? It was all to confusing...

The events of the previous day swarmed her mind, clouding her thinking with the little black hatchling. Why did he wait so long? Was she not strong enough before? Vihrea flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling.

A knock sounded at the door and she got up, still clutching her sword. She opened it and peered around. No one was there.

_Hmm, that's odd. _ she thought, reaching for a note on the floor. She unfolded it and gasped. A silver pentagram dropped to the floor, light reflecting off it all over. She fingered the note before reading it:

_Lessons of Blade_

Vihrea blinked several times. Was she going to have an unknown, well, phantom rattling her about Lessons of Blade? There were two explanations: sparring lessons, and her acctual Lessons of Blade. Who would use such words? And what about the pentagram?

She shook her head and buckled on her sword haphazardly. She practically tore down the hall and out to the Training Field, where she had first learnt of the swordplay they used here, and how it was so different than back Home.

Vihrea's eyes darted around as she frantically looked for any scrap of proof it wasn't the truth. Her heart raced before she finally spotted the fool who'd sent her that. Murtagh.

_You idiot!_ she wanted to scream. _Who do you think you are, talking about Lessons of Blade!_

She stormed up to him, her eyes filled with fire. "What do _you _want?" she asked, still fuming.

Murtagh gave her a quizzical look before speaking. "I think, as your mentor, I ought to know your strength. What better way to figure that out until you and you're dragon are strong enough?"

_A better way? Beating you..._

"Alright. Brace yourself." Vihrea said, a smirk plastered on her face.

She drew her sword and eyed him carefully. He paused, unsheathed his sword and took his battle stance. Vihrea began circling him, only to have him watch her every move. Murtagh lashed out first, only to have her block and return the attack. They danced in a fury of sparks and blades, a well match. Finally, Vihrea was caught, Zar'roc trapping her sword behind her, to where she was looking at him upside down.

"You're pretty good," Murtagh puffed, smiling at her.

"Not bad yourself." she said before swinging her sword up and sent Zar'roc flying a good few feet away. Vihrea smiled to the shocked Muratgh. "Don't be surprised, it's in my blood."

"Well, gee, I've got it, too, but...but...that was unexpected."

"Unexpected? You saying I'm not strong?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I should have known you could pull off something like that, you being trained by Galbatorix and all that."

"It still sound like you're saying I'm not strong. Vihrea Nightshade, not strong? I'm known."

"Huh? What do you mean 'your known'?"

"Ah, just forget about it." she said, kicking the ground. "I got crup to do." She turned and left the field in victory

c /c 

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-Offers tin can- Reviews?


	4. Dreamweaver

Okay, pay attention to this. I meant to put fancy little, uh, things on the previous chapter so that it means you're being, um, transported, if you will, to another place. So, yes, this somewhere is different than somewhere. Okay?

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_The forest stood before her, behind her, all around. Everywhere. The taunting moon stood in its field of black, its luminous body a mere slit. The raging crys sounded from every direction; screams and shouts, of victory and loss. Shadows danced along the ground, their makers unseen or heard. Panic wafted from her, clarifying her fear to anyone within the area._

_"Follow me, find me,"_

_The voice rang as clear as a bell, reaching her ears like liquid. "Vihrea?" she asked shakily, her hope crawling greater be slight._

_"Come to me, Vasha."_

_"How? I cannot see you."_

_"Follow my voice."_

_Vasha set off at a blind run, nimbly dodging the tree roots and branches. Her bare feet bloodied as they kissed the briars on the ground, but she ran on. As fast as her legs could carry her, she ran. The forest was thinning, and they opened to a clearing, the spot where her sister used to come and play her flute. The melodious serenade of the instrument floated in the air, and the sweet scent of rain travelled with it._

_"Vihrea?"_

_A flicker of movement and she appeared, like a spirit floating into existence. Tears streamed down Vihrea's face, or at least what seemed like her. The music she had heard before was replaced by a crow's call, and the rain with the coppery smell of blood._

_"No, Vihrea, don't-"_

_"Young pup, beware. Beware of friends, and beware of foes. Innocent blood shall spill, war will rise and danger rage. Beware."_

_And with that, the suspended vision faded._

Sweat drenched Vasha's face as she woke. Instantly, she longed for her sister. Longed for her tales, her music, her scent. The way Vihrea would calm her in thunderstorms, and after nightmares. Each memory brought her sibling's name to her lips. She gave a small cry for her mother, and the woman came to the door, concern etched over her face.

"What is wrong, my love?" she asked, her voice gentle and kind.

"Vihrea, I miss her," Vasha said as her mother sat on the bed. She leaned into the woman's arm and allowed her dark hair to be stroked.

"I miss her, too. But, remember your father's words."

"He only did that because he did not want to be reminded of the great one he lost. I will go on speaking of Vihrea."

"Hush, love. It was foolish, I'll admit. But you mustn't, do not speak of her, no matter how much it hurts."

Vasha turned to face her mother. "Can you still hear her voice? Can you still see her face? Do you remember?"

Her mother's face hardened. "No, I cannot! For 13 years, I have sat in the spot where I last saw Vihrea, hoping that fate was not true. I've tried, love, I've tried to recall, but all is not possible. I only wish..."

And she wept.

"I have sent her signs; notes, her pentagram; hoping that I would get a sign in return. But no. It is not possible." Her mother said through a haze of tears.

"There is a way, Mother." Vasha began to tell her tales of Vihrea. The times they'd skipped stones in the lake, the games they'd played, recited the stories she'd told her, hummed the tunes of her sister's flute.

Hope shined.


	5. Mairda

Golden sunlight lined Vasha's face as she crept through the village, warming her skin with the feeling of liquid. She paused to survey the town, if you will. Tents littered the streets alongside the backs of subtle stone buildings. Wooden stands stuck out like sore thumbs from the rows of brilliantly coloured fabrics, and merchants called out their offerings into the calm air. To the north, not far but far enough, was the Darkleaf Forest seen. Faint cries could be heard from it every so often, and many having the same pitch as a frightened human.

"'Ello, Vasha!"

The voice startled her so much she nearly fell over. Her green eyes darted from the village to the scruffy boy in front of her.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Vasha asked, a lace of annoyance in her voice. "Other than bugging me?"

The boy laughed. "Don't be silly! Today's the flea market!"

"En't everyday the flea market?"

"No! Have you been sleeping under a rock all these years? There's teenie everyday flea markets, and then there's big-" he spaced his arms apart as if trying to show her how big. "-ones." He flashed an innocent smile.

"And so, what's your point?" Vasha asked, tapping her foot impatiently.

"You really _are_ stupid."

Vasha growled at him, clenching her fists.

"Kidding!" He said quickly, throwing his hands up into the air. "What I'm _trying_ to tell you is that I got a day off."

"Gee, a day off? But there's a bajillion messages to be delivered."

"He's got Rael doing it."

"Oh. That explains it," Vasha said, continuing in the direction she had been going, only to have the boy tag along.

"You know you're not allowed out of Lane's sight." the boy said jogging alongside her. "You're gonna get in big trouble."

"Well, I was doing fine until you popped out of nowhere and scared me half to death."

"Oooh, what happens if I scare you half to death twice?"

"Shaddup."

Unable to shake the idiotic messenger-boy, Vasha continued along her path until she came to a musky tent made with an elaborate violet fabric. Smoke vented out the top into the lucid air. Vasha parted the flaps and wandered inside, her hand on the boy's forehead until he turned, sulking, and left.

"Mairda?" Vasha called into the murk. The elderly woman came from a hole in the back of the tent, which Vasha figured led into the back of her occult suply shop.

"Is there something I can help you with, Dear?" she asked her voice wavering with age. "Or have you come to help me?"

"I acutually was hoping you could help me. Mother said something about sending notes to Vihrea-" Mairda cringed at the name. "My sister, sorry. I was wondering if I could send her something as well."

"Why, certainly, Dear. Come with me," She led Vasha through the hole in the back and into the storage room of the shop. Mairda beckoned to a chair pulled out from a round table and went to rummage through a drawer. Vasha sat, tracing the design on the cloth that covered the wood as the High Priestess brought her a red cord.

"Now," she said, laying the cord in front of her. "Your sister had the traditional Wiccan initiation. Truthfully, she begged for it. This will stand for a part of her, alright? Alright. Do you have anything you wish to give her?" Mairda paused and watched Vasha set a piece of paper on the table. "Good, good. Give me your hands, and I will do the rest. Close your eyes." The priestess muttered something to soft to hear, and there was a flash of light.

"There you go, young one." Mairda said, the table bare of the note.

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-Rattles tin can- Reviews? A beta reader wouldn't be bad either...

And, ka-cough, we're going back to the other two...four...


	6. Mistakes

Sorry for the delay! I was devoting myself to a project,and there were other things. School, violin, swordplay, the coven... Anyway, I do know that all future chapters, including this one, shall be longer. Yay for 818!

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Days became weeks and weeks to months. Moons passed, the dragon grew, and soon adopted the name Rose. She grew to a form different than the other dragons, slim but muscled with a wingspan for a dragon three times her size. So, out within the clearing, are our two Riders.

_Thump_. Vihrea's stomach lurched as Rose took to the skies. She still wasn't accustomed to this flying thing, she'd rather be on the ground, running to catch the dawn. But, she was a Dragon Rider, and dragons fly. She didn't like the feeling of being so high up, it was what scared her, of all the things in the sky.

_C'mon, Vih, it isn't that bad._ Rose hummed. Vihrea shook her head, clinging to one of Rose's golden spikes. _Vih, you're a Dragon Rider--_

_I know, but I'm not built for flying! _she said, shaking her head again. Vihrea cast a glance down at her mentors, they were specks now. "Moon, help me!" she muttered, growling deeply. "I swear, if I meet one of them Urgals, I'll rip 'im to shreds!"

_I admire your enthusiasm, but I think you'd be killed._

_Says you. You dunno who I am._

_You're a Dragon Rider afraid of heights._

_Ah, forget you._ Vihrea said stubbornly. "Skulblakas Ven!" she shouted, melding into Rose's vision. _Whazzat?_ The girl peered closely, sighting an odd shape farther off. It wasn't Master Murtagh of Thorn, they were still watching, and they weren't from the castle. _Rose, land! _The dragon wheeled around, and dived for the Training Field.

The two mentor exchanged glances as the girl jumped from the great ebony dragon, and rushed to the forest at the edge of the field. "What is it?" Murtagh called, running after her. When he came to Vihrea's side, she slapped a hand over his mouth and gestured to the forest. A twig snapped, and the shape of a person behind the trees became clear. Murtagh slowly drew Zar'roc, and prepared to strike. The figure ran head-on, lunged at Vihrea, and tackled her to the ground.

"Curse Moon!" Vihrea shouted, raking her nails down her attacker's face. It was a man, eighteen or so, with black hair and piercing blue eyes. She kicked him hard, pummelling him with blows that looked far beyond her strength. Murtagh stepped in, tearing the man from the angered girl and tossing him away. "Shame, you idiot!" She barked, picking herself off the ground and dusting herself off. "How'd you get here!"

The young man looked up, rubbing the cheek where it had been scratched. "It was a mistake, Nightshade." he growled.

"That's a helluva mistake."

"Dammit, Princess Nightshade, you're just like your father."

"Princess?" Murtagh asked, slightly confused.

"What a lovely plaything, Vih," Shame said, his eyes flicking to Murtagh. "Face it, Princess, you can't play human."

"Vihrea, what's he talking about?" Murtagh's voice came again.

"Nothing," she said to Murtagh. Then, "Shut the hell up!" to Shame.

"Tonight's the Full Moon. We know you did it Vih," Shame chuckled. "Once a Nightshade always a Nightshade." With that, he turned and went back the way he came.

Vihrea stood there, shaking. A growl rippled in her throat and she kneeled on the ground. "Curse Harlo!" she shrieked, ripping up the grass. "Curse Shame! Curse Lane! Curse Vasha! Curse Valdor! Curse Nightshade!" Tears streamed down her face as she tore at the earth. "Curse them all!" Rose stepped over and nosed her Rider's shoulder. Vihrea ignored it. "I didn't mean to," she whispered.

"What?" Murtagh asked softly, kneeling beside her. He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder.

Vihrea looked at him. "You mustn't breath a word."

"Vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." Upon my word as a Rider.

"Once upon a time, I killed a man. My father was in jail, since he had gone and killed a man in the back of a bar. Another man must've seen him changing back. That's something you'll know later. I'd done it to bail him out, and I made it look like it wasn't me. But Shame and his little gang had saw me do it, I begged him not to tell, I'm not sure if he did, but I was banished from the Kingdom for nearly a month, and sent to the Shadowlands. It was a great and terrible feat. I'd proved my strength and loyalty, but I brought a great danger to the Pack."

"How old were you?"

"I was five. It seems odd, I know, but true. My father is a cruel man."

"I thought your father was Galbatorix."

Vihrea laughed, although it sound as if she was bordering the edge of madness. "No, no, I'd never be related to that filthy human."

"But your father's still a king."

"Master, I fear I've said too much. None more." Her voice was dark, but filled with longing. "When time grows old, you will know."


	7. Seen It All

Longer. My chapters are getting longer.

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_Wait until night,_ Vihrea told herself, kneading her pillow with her fists. _Wait until all is dark._

Such a thing was hard to do, her skin already prickled with the rush of the change. She gazed out the window at the setting sun, and laid eyes upon the faint shadow of the full moon. She licked her lips with pleasure at the thought of running in the forest out beyond the castle, when she was finally free of her skin-walker form...

"Vihrea?" Ignorance waved over her as her mentor knocked on the door. She called out enter, and the door creaked open. Vihrea sat up, sheathing and unsheathing her claws behind her back.

"Yes, Master Murtagh?"

"Not to bother you," she stifled a laugh. "I was just wondering, how could someone kill a grown man at the age of five?"

"You ask much, but I shall trust you. My kind is stronger than most. I ask you to stay far away when the moon rises, stay within the castle. Could you leave now? I have much to do." Murtagh nodded, turned, and left. Vihrea heaved a sigh. She was letting him know too much. He was human for Moon's sake, half a person. If her father ever found out, she'd be dead for sure.

_Why me?_ She pondered, getting up and going to the window. Her emotions blended as the Sun retreated and the Moon took his place. _How can I do anything, when the fate of Alagaesia _and_ Harlo depends on me? Ever since I came here, things have been horribly wrong. And Kordane has always wanted war against us, I can only imagine what's happening..._

Vihrea cursed herself for thinking of those wretched things. She had wanted to forget them, forget what she was, forget who she was. It was harder than it sounded, and even then it sounded hard. Her eyes glazed over as she felt the night beckoning her. It was nearly dark, and she fell upon the decision that she could head out now.

_He's forcing it out of me,_ Vihrea thought, walking down the hallway. _He asks too many questions_. She proceeded down the stairs and out the door. _It'll get him killed one of these days._ Her eyes flicked around cautiously for danger, when she sensed none, headed strait for the forest.

She felt an burst of pain pulse through her body as she disrobed. She could already feel the beast awakening inside her. Her skin prickled as orange fur covered her limbs before melting into pitch black. Her fiery pelt laced most of her body, leaving her with a black mask, white underparts, and threatening violet eyes. Her hair was replaced with long strands of fur that trailed down her back.

She doubled over as she reformed. Her legs shortened, her arms lengthened, her jaw popped to accommodate it. Her ears morphed to canine's, and her spine exteneded into a two-tone tail. As the rush of pain subsided, her human form had been replaced with a maned wolf.

Vihrea stood in her true form, and raised her voice to the heavens. _May Moon live within me!_ she howled, and raced along the trees in joy. Her ears flicked around, but passed it off as a mere bird. _I don't understand,_ she thought, searching the stars._ How everyone depends on me. I'm just a girl from Harlo. And yet, I'm thrown into this world with an expectation to save this crummy Alagaesia. It's no fair._

She heaved a sigh and trotted off into the field. She crossed it in a bound, running with a new found emotion. _No, no, he's my mentor. I've only know him for who knows how long._ Vihrea cursed herself. _He's human. _She paced into the other forest, the blood singing in her veins. _Human, for Moon's sake, human. My mentor...my friend, I guess._

But no matter how many times she told herself that, she felt more. She struggled to push it away, but with no avail. It kept floating back. _I've bitten off more bunny than I can chew,_ she decided. Vihrea continued to the heart of the forest, her tail sagging as she fought with her emotions. She perched herself on the rock there, and heaved a wolven sigh.

_The darkness used to bring me away from my emotions, not closer to them!_ Vihrea scolded herself for having a heart-to-heart with no one. _I'm a fool. He knows too much already, if I let him know anymore...no, I won't let that happen!_

She was confused and alone; her mind flooded her brain with lies as tears rolled down her lupine face. _It's too much. I should probably just kill myself now._ There was a subtle crack, and Vihrea looked up. Her ears swivelled around as she tried to pinpoint it. Leaping from the rock she ran the length of the forest, with no success. She was spooked now, or maybe it was just those lovely lies in her head. That _had _to be it.

_Stab me with silver, why dontcha?_ Vihrea told herself. She felt on the edge of madness. Moon watched over her, but she felt that wasn't all. She hastily came up with reasons for the noises. _A bird. A frog. A lizard. The wind. My brain. Durza--no he's dead! _She was loosing control. Something had to be happening in Harlo. And she wouldn't rest until it was resolved.

Vihrea crossed the field back to where she'd started, half-changed and walking on two feet. She entered the trees and there was another crack. She blinked several times, _It's everywhere! I think I've gone insane._ She searched the trees before she laid eyes on a figure. She crept up, then fell upon the decision that she had to identify the person, and the only way to do that was to put herself in full view. She took the consequences and stepped out.

There was Murtagh, and he had seen it all.

Horror bloomed on his face as he recognised her, half-changed, her ears pointed, her breasts emerging from a tri-colour pelt. Murtagh drew his sword, his eyes filled with fear.

"No, don't, it's me!" Vihrea pleaded, crouching before her mentor.

"Vihrea, what's happened?"


	8. Death is Equal

This one isn't as long but before you start hounding me, there's a few things you need to know. First, I won't be able to go on until the end of the school year, June something. I'm only on today (May 11) because it's my birthday. Second, _loup-garou_ is french, so anyone who's read _Blood & Chocolate_ doesn't kill me. That's about it, but, sleep with dragons under your pillow, and you'll be fine.

"Legend has it, werewolves _do_ exist." -My teacher.

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_He hates me,_ Vihrea thought, surpressing a frown. "Nothing has happened," she whispered, lowering her gaze away from him. Fear and amazment floated around him; she wanted so much to try and make him understand. "It's not what you think, nothing has happened," she repeted, taking a step back as his grip tightened on Zar'roc. A wave a pain rushed over her. _Father _was_ right, humans_ don't_ understand._

"Then how can you explain this?" Murtagh asked, gesturing at her with his free hand.

Her eyes narrowed. "Accept it. Accept that this is who I am. If we were in Harlo, this'd mean death for us both, meat-boy."

"Death doesn't frighten me."

"Oh, but certainly, I do? Oh, yes...I can tell. Death is my equal, Murtagh. You are looking at death. And death, can only defeat death," she said, walking in a circle around him. "You, on the other hand, are not death. You, meat-boy, are half a person. A human. You will never see death as I have, but you will see death."

"So are you of the undead?"

Vihrea laughed. "And my shoes are made of gold. No, not the undead. Something further. I am, say, torn in between. I am not human or beast. I am both. Because of that, you'll never look at me the same way again. You won't see me as your apprentice, your friend, even. But for what you damn humans all think we are: threats. They're more a threat to us than we are them." She was dimly aware of the tears trailing down her cheeks.

Murtagh stood, at a loss for words. It seemed as though her attempts to make him understand were really attempts at driving him insane. "I don't know what to say."

"What to say? Hah! Don't say anything at all. Not a word to anyone. Now leave, it's nearly dawn." He took off running toward the castle, leaving her behind.

"Wonderful, Princess."

"Shame. You should had left!" Vihrea said. She turned to see the black loup-garoux struting up to her. A wolfish grin was plastered on his face.

"I did leave. I left long enough to let them know," Shame said, drawing his sword. "The King told me to carry out your punishment. Your... Lessons of Blade, aye?" He gripped her arms behind her back, she fought with no avail, and he laid the blade on the cross- shaped scar where no fur grew. She stiffened immediatly. The blade traced the first line and she bit back a string of curses. The steel left her flesh only to return to slide across the new wound. The silver pentagram was torn from her neck and she bit her lip. The metal touched the wound quickly, but quick as it was, she felt the effect. Her whole being burned like acid and her breathing grew faint. Vihrea hardly felt as she fell forward and her vision started to go black. She heard Shame laughing, and then no more.

-x-

Murtagh bitterly paced the length of his room. _If she doesn't want me around, so be it. What does she expect me to do? Ratting on about death, I think her brain is dead. _He heard a shout at the edge of his conscious, but ignored it. _She can be whatever she wants to be. If she wants to be a crazy wolf-lady, let her._ The shout came again, louder this time._ Can't they be quiet? Don't they know wolf-people are running around, turning everyone's brain to mush with death?_

_Murtagh!_

_Huh? Oh, Thorn it's just you..._

_There's something wrong._

_What?_

It was Rose who answered. _It is Vihrea. _Her voice was faint.

_Oh, her, running around all wolf-like. Is she alright?_

_I cannot tell. She won't repond. Whatever it is...my Rider grows weak._


	9. A Debt With Chickens

Oi! I am alive! This would have been up last week, but complications arose and such. Here, I'd like you to note, we are back with Vasha in Harlo. I should have another chapter up soon, if I can find where I put it.

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Lane stood on the balcony, watching the portion of the Nightshade Pack that had cared to show. A low buzz surged through the crowed, and several people had shouted out what Vihrea owed them. Most of then had been money from bets, some were jewelery Vihrea had borrowed or stole, and some, to his surprise, were chickens. Vihrea's pet chickens, there were three now and mostly considered the palace chickens since she was gone, had been raised from eggs by the princess herself. He had never stopped and wondered where she got them, and now it was coming clear. "What did Vihrea want with chickens, anyway?" Lane asked Vasha. The girl shrugged.

"Your attention," Lane shouted to the crowd. The drone merely decreased in volume. "Silence!" The hall went so quiet, even the crickets didn't dare sing."Now, we are gathered here to discuss the matters of Vihrea Nightshade."

"So...she's alive? That's what your saying?" someone shouted. Lane glanced at Shame, who nodded.

"Yes. If you don't believe me, here's a witness," he said, allowing Shame to take his spot and speak.

"Vihrea is alive," Shame announced. There was a short whisper. "She is loyal to Moon, but to Nightshade, that's another story. She has become...one of those dragon Riders. Ah, I see you remember. That proves that she has been playing human ever since she disappeared. Thirteen years, Vihrea has been gone. But that doesn't matter. What _does_ matter, is something equal to death. Vihrea Nightshade, heiress to the Nightshade throne and blessed by the soul of Valdor, has exposed loups-garoux to the humans." There was an uproar.

"Silence!" Lane boomed, and it died down. "I have come up with a consequence that might fit, and I need your approval. We cannot kill the Blessed One, the one that bears Valdor's mark, can we? No. We cannot. You are aware of the ancient Lessons of Blade. 'Cut by steel but stung by silver', that has already been carried out." Vivian, the queen, gave a small whimper.

"I say, we kill the whelp anyway!" someone shouted.

"No! I already said we cannot. Her punishment: tied to the stake, five lashed touched by silver or we kill the meat-boy. Oh, did I not mention the meat-boy? There is one, and Shame tells me he is the one who saw Vihrea in wolf-form, but-how sweet-they love each other. They just don't know it. Or...we could carry out both." There was a murmur of agreement.

"Lane, you can't be serious," Vivian whispered, cradling their newest daughter, Verity, a bit closer. "She is but a girl!"

"Vivian, you know the Law applies to everyone. If she were not branded by Valdor, she'd be dead by tomorrow. You know that."

"Oh, is that why you killed Levon? Because the Law told you to?"

"Vivian, don't start," he hissed before returning his attention to the crowd. "We shall bring Vihrea and the meat-boy to Harlo by the next full moon. The Law will be honored along with the name of Nightshade."

"What about Vihrea's debts?" someone yelled.

"Oh, those. Vasha will give us the sums within the hour." He turned to the princess. "Go, in the Drawing Room. Only an hour. Now." Vasha nodded and ran down the halls to the Drawing Room. She approached the pile of papers on the desk. If they were written nearly as bad as the first, this was going to be one long hour.

"Oh, why did I have to fail arithmacy?" she muttered, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen. She looked at the first number and copied it down, humming a song Vihrea used to sing.

"Lady Vasha?" a voice said from the doorway.

"Busy," Vasha said simply.

"Vasha, dear, it's Mairda."

"Oh! Mairda! Hello! Busy."

"I'm here to help," Mairda said, taking the pen from Vasha. She muttered something under her breath and allowed the pen and paper to do the work.

"How'd you do that?"

"Perhaps you'll learn someday. Now, the reason I'm here is that you can prevent the killing of Vihrea's beloved, the meat-boy. There's no reason to kill love until you know the turn-out. Listen closely, now, listen real good. Are you with me?" Vasha nodded. "Good."

"How're we going to do it?"

"Magic, wolf magic. We're using magic. Since there's no spell that can bring back the dead, we have to prevent his death."

"Mairda, why do some loup-garou fall in love with humans? Dad says only fools do that."

"It's not fools, dear. They're like us. We were once humans, too. Sometimes, we just want to get away from what we are and fit in. A change. You can't stop love. But apparently Lane thinks he can."

"So what about the plan?"

"Alright, tomorrow we go to where ever it is Vihrea's at, and we tell her and the meat-boy what's being planned. See where that takes us..."

"Um, if you say so. 1,435 crowns, seven pieces of jewelery, and...ten chickens."


	10. Two Unexpected Visits

Not quite as long as I would have hoped, but my main focus was movement. Getting somewhere with Vihrea and Murtagh. As for my disappearence, I was painting my room. Or at least Dad was.

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Taptaptap._

Vasha groaned as the incessent bother resumed. She turned over and looked blankly at the window where three shadows loomed. Vihrea's chickens. Of course. She sighed and rolled off the bed, allowing her head to hit the nightstand as she fell. The tapping continued at a louder volume as she crawled over to the window and threw it open. The three black chickens fluttered down off the sill and onto the bed. "What do you want? I have to go save my human-infested sister, and you show up? TODAY?" The chickens clucked a few times, but made no acknowledgement of her presence.

"Lady Vasha?" a maid called from outside. "Mairda is here to see you."

"Wonderful," Vasha muttered, swatting the chickens away from the beading sewn onto her quilt. "Go on, get!"

"Lady Vasha?"

"Send her in." Her sentence was punctuated by a loud _cluck_. The door opened and the elderly woman entered. There was an odd glint in her eyes. Vasha froze. "Mairda, what is it you're planning?"

"Come, dear, we don't have all day."

"I'm not dressed."

"Put on a cloak. No one will know."

"I will!" Vasha hissed, only to have the black cloak meet her face. She rolled her eyes and threw it on, the three chickens watching intensely. "I don't half-believe you! Moon knows what could happen!"

"Don't question your elders," Mairda said, leading Vasha out of the room. "Hurry. The faster we get there, the sooner we can save them."

"Vasha and her meat-boy?"

"Yes. Who else would I be talking about?"

"Chickens."

-x-

Vihrea groaned lightly as the world came into focus. She looked vacantly at the man sitting in the chair next to her bed. It was Murtagh. "What happened?" she asked, squinting. "Wait, what happened to your _neck_?"

"My neck?" he asked, blinking. He cautiously reached a hand up to the gash. "Oh. Don't remember."

_Did I scare you too much?_ A small voice in the back of her head mocked. She shook her head violently only to stop and find it swimming. "Ouch," she muttered, clutching her head for a moment. Her eyes wandered back to the cut on his neck. "C'mere," she said, sitting on the pillow and tucking her legs under her. She patted the bed. "Come sit. I want to show you something." He shrugged and sat next to her. "Loups-garoux have wonderful healing powers," Vihrea whispered. He turned and looked at her with a raised brow.

"What are you playing at?" he asked, although there was a hint on laughter in his voice. She gave a small shiver and crawled behind him, leaning so her face was inches away from his wound.

_Vihrea, you're playing with meat,_ that voice piped up. _Don't play with your food._ She pushed it away and gently ran her tongue across his neck. He jerked away slightly as he shivered involuntarily. A small look of realisation spread across his face and she grinned. She repeated the motion, gripping his shoulder and gently tapping his chin. "We aren't all bad," she paused to lap at his neck again. "Are we?" She pulled back, running a finger on the newly healed wound. She jerked suddenly at something he couldn't hear, and walked to the window. "Oh, for Moon's sake," she muttered, throwing it open. "Vasha! Mairda! What gives? Why do you have my chickens?"


	11. I Don't Remember the Title

Vihrea half-stumbled, half-ran out to greet the new comers. She glared once at the rapidly spreading bruise on her arm (the silly meat had fell on her running down the stairs) before gripping Vasha in a hug. "No," Vihrea whispered as her sister shook. "Don't cry."

Vasha pulled away. "Everyone thought you were dead," she growled. "For thirteen years--"

"Do not tell me of my mistakes, little sister, I know them well," Vihrea said simply.

"You don't understand!" Vihrea's violet gaze met her emerald. "They're going to kill you!"

"WHAT?!" Vihrea demanded, rounding on Mairda. "Now you tell me?"

The elderly woman frowned. "Young wolf," she said, watching the chickens parade in circles around their owner. "Times are dark. Kordane is threatening war. Harlo is falling under King Lane's rule." Mairda sighed. "Lion and Wolf are standing, hackles raised and teeth bared while Sun and Moon battle in the Sky. Lady Vihrea, you bear the mark of Valdor. But it is against our Law to expose our kind to humans."

"I know the Law," Vihrea said, narrowing her eyes. She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Aren't we half human? Don't they see what they denounce is a part of them?"

"It's a part of you, not of them," Mairda whispered. "They know what they are."

Vasha looked up. "When you put your trust in Man, you condemn us all."

"We condemn ourselves," Vihrea growled. She glared at Vasha so fiercely the shadow of the wolf flashed on her face. Vasha shrunk back behind Mairda.

"Princess Wolf," Mairda said gently. "Let's back away from the past and focus on now. Who is your lovely...friend?"

Vihrea looked around, seeing Murtagh standing off to one side, looking mildly confused as the chickens paced circles around him. He shook his head and muttered, "I seriously don't understand you." She gave a small laugh.

"En't gonna get any better. This is Murtagh, he's, um, my mentor...Murtagh, this is my sister Vasha and this is Mairda, the village healer or mystic or something like that." She shrugged and picked up one of the chickens. "And how are you?" she asked it in a baby voice. "Did you miss Momma? Did you?" The chicken clucked, head tilting to one side.

"Uh-oh, I think it thinks you're crazy, Vih," Vasha said.

Vihrea turned around and looked at her, eyebrows raised, "I will throw this chicken at you, and you won't be too happy."

"Girls," Mairda said loudly. They both stopped and stared at the ground. "Now, I'm sure you have questions about this, Murtagh, as do we all, but isn't there someplace we could be other than among the tulips?"

"Um, uh...well, I don't think the king would be too happy, but I guess we could go inside," he answered uncertainly. The small group headed off toward the castle, chickens in tow.

-x-

So, maybe it was that statement that found Murtagh, Vihrea, and Vasha sitting on the floor outside the throne room, listening to Mairda and Galbatorix fight. So far, it was hard to decide who was winning.

"She's not your daughter, you can't control her," Mairda shouted angrily.

"Good point," Vihrea said dully.

"She's been under my care for thirteen years," Galbatorix retorted.

"Valid counter point," Vasha said.

In truth, this seemed to go on for hours. By the time the door opened, all three (six, rather) had entered a foggy sleep. They jolted awake, chickens clucking angrily.

"Get up," Mairda said angrily, walking past them. "All of you."

"But, but," Vasha began. "He can't... he's not..."

"'Gainst the law..." Vihrea added.

Mairda whirled around and gave them a stern look. "The pack will come looking for him, or we take him. I'm not risking this place torn to pieces or our pack lying in blood." The three of them exchanged glances. Vasha patted Murtagh on the back and met Vihrea's gaze. The stared at each other for a moment before trailing after the elder woman. The path back to Harlo was filling with dread, and death was in the air.


	12. Life Goals

I will tell you the reason I have come back. It deeply inspired me that, a year and five months after this story had lost all hope, I discovered that people still review this. And that has made me overjoyed! Also, do not ask what compelled me to write the content of this chapter. It is insanely short, but it should get longer as I start this up again.

-x-

"Oh, Harlo, my love, it is the fair kingdom of Harlo! Bask in its glory, for it is supreme!" Vasha's face dropped.

"Thank you for your instructions, _sir_. Thank you for your instructions, _sir_. I will do anything for you, _sir_. I will kill people, _sir_. Old people? Small, new born people? I will do it without care,_ sir._ How can I help you, _sir_--!" Vihrea sulked as Mairda cuffed her on the back of the head. "He belongs in the grave," she whispered, staring at the gates that led to the castle. The two guards bowed, and stopped Murtagh in midstep.

"He cannot pass," one of them said.

Vihrea lowered her hood. The guards gasped. "Yes, he shall."

"Of course, Lady Nightshade." They backed away. Vihrea replaced her hood and followed Mairda to the Throne Room.

"You stay here," Mairda said, pushing the door open. "I'm going to talk with Lane."

"Happy birthday, Dad, I'm alive," Vihrea muttered, throwing out her hands. "And look what I brought, a lovely hunk of meat to go with it."

"You're too sarcastic for your own good," Vasha said, stroking one of the chickens.

"Why thank you!"

"See? That is why you get jabbed with silver because you make everything a joke."

"I do not."

"Now you're lying."

"It is not a joke. It is a mildly exaggerated remark which you wouldn't say on normal circumstances. I don't see how that's a joke."

"Shut up."

"Of course, Princess Wolf."

There was a brief pause, which was filled with yelling from the Throne Room. Vasha glanced at Murtagh, who was being bombarded by the chickens, then at Vihrea, arms crossed in a huff as she sat cross-legged on the floor. "You do know what might happen to your chickens, right?"

Vihrea looked up suddenly, concerned. "What?" she demanded, reaching up and grabbing her sister's collar and shaking her. "What might happen to my chickens?"

"Well," Vasha considered as she pulled away. "When I was tallying your debts" -Vihrea smirked faintly- "Your chickens came up. You're going to give them back and they will be dinner." Vihrea protectively scooped up one of the chickens and frowned.

"I refuse," she declared as the other two gathered at her feet.

"You can get another chicken, you can't get another meat-boy."

"Yeah, I also want a fluffy squishy bunny-city, but I'm not gonna get that, am I?"

"So we've estalbished that you want the meat-boy alive, and the chickens, along with a...fluffy...squishy...bunny-city." She turned to Murtagh. "At least you're in the top three. But what about Shame? Dead?"

"Yes, how could I forget? He's so annoying! I shall throw him out of the tallest tower onto a spear of silver, and I shall take Father's place and have my fluffy squishy bunny-city."

"Why don't we make that your life goal? You know, after saving the boy?"

Vihrea looked at him for a moment, studying the confused expression and the chicken balanced on his head. "I've still gotta do that, don't I? At least the chickens approve."

"Chicken and bunny-cities, that's all it's about."

Mairda emerged from the Throne Room, looking a bit pale. "Vihrea, you go. Go." She ushered her into the room. "Be convincing, and dedicate yourself to something!"

"If you die," Vasha called after her. "I shall fulfill your wishes of a fluffy squishy bunny-city!"


End file.
